So Many Thousands of Feet Off the Ground

It had been a week since Savanya had appeared on Kennedy Brock’s doorstep in the middle of the unusual torrential downpour. The new roommates hadn’t really spoken and Kennedy was just barely lucky enough to have learned her name. The girl had been hold up in her room with the door closed almost since he showed her where it was.

To call Savanya’s behavior strange wouldn’t be entirely out of line, for she was more reclusive and silent than a mute. She had left the apartment once, at least to Kennedy’s knowledge. The day after he had shown her to her room, she poked her head out of her room soundlessly around seven a.m. He had watched her from his room, careful not to alert her to the fact that he was awake. He observed the delicate way in which she moved and the graceful way she tiptoed across the floor.

She’d returned to the apartment sometime around nine thirty carrying two plastic shopping bags from Target. He recalled her walking quickly past his perplexed stare and into her room, shutting the door almost entirely. He called out to her, letting her know that he was making breakfast and that she was more than welcome to join, but she just shook her head and excused herself.

Once Savanya had conveniently locked herself back in her bedroom, Kennedy remained alone in the kitchen, confused as could be by this girl. He had never met someone so socially maladroit. He leaned his back against the counter, shaking his head in uncertainty. The girl was quiet but she still seemed to hold true to what she said—she was absolutely harmless.

By the end of her first week residing there, Kennedy felt it necessary to pull her out of whatever funk or alternate reality she was living in and expose her to Tempe…and his friends, of course, though he wasn’t so sure how the seemingly shy and reclusive girl would handle them. He took long strides to reach her room, knocking lightly on the white-painted door when he reached it. She whispered a faint ‘come in,’ and he took her up on that offer, pushing the door open as wide as was possible.

Savanya was curled up in the center of her bed, a textbook to her left and a notebook to her right, French verb conjugation patterns scribbled across the paper. It looked as if it had been given up on ages ago, exchanged for her own thoughts and the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She’d tried over and over to wipe them away but it was useless, she had no control over them. She held her sweatshirt sleeves to her eyes in a futile attempt to absorb the all of the salty tears, but they came too fast. The sleeves had been quickly saturated and were soaked unlike anything Kennedy had ever seen.

“Are you okay?” Kennedy asked quickly, unsure of how to react. He’d seen girls cry, he’d consoled them, but he’d never seen a girl like this; so torn apart and ripped to shred. And even worse, the girl had hardly spoken to him and they had hardly seen each other despite the fact that they lived together. He watched her shake her head slowly, pulling her palms and sweatshirt sleeves away from her face. “D-do you, I don’t know, wanna talk about it?” She shrugged, pulling herself up into a sitting position. He didn’t know what else to do.

“What did you want?” she whispered quietly as he walked over to her bed, taking a seat next to her. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, liquid still silently pouring from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Her head swung from side to side, a childlike way of shaking her head. He didn’t really care why she was crying, or at least that’s what she thought. She didn’t expect some stranger to care about how she felt when no one she knew cared. That was why she was here in the first place.

She bit her lip, trying to laugh lightly and failing. “What did you want? What’s up?” He stared at her, trying to conjure up some kind of thought. He stared quietly taking in her flushed and freckled cheeks, blood-shot indigo eyes, neat light brown hair, and porcelain skin. He noted that the streams winding down her cheeks shouldn’t exist, even if she were a stranger. No one should ever have to cry that much. If he’d known her better, this would be the part where he’d extend his arms to her; offer her his embrace as a form of comfort. But she was different and unfamiliar and he was well aware that a hug would probably do nothing to help her tattered soul.

“Are you okay?” She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it quickly, sighing instead. He rested a hand on her shoulder, an almost introduction to the consolation he could offer, but she just stood and wandered across the room to her closet, which he presumed didn’t contain much. After all, one can’t carry much in such a small amount of luggage.

“What did you really want?” she whispered, her voice on the verge of cracking. She strolled from the closet to the window sliding her fingers slowly down the glass before glancing at Kennedy. “Kenny, what did you want?”

He shook his head, walking over to her, wanting nothing more than to find out what turned her into this shell of a person; this silent creature trying to roam the earth unnoticed—something she was far too beautiful to succeed at. “I wanted to drag you out of the apartment for a little while, but I’m not going to if something’s wrong.” She laughed a small laugh, a smile trying to find its way to her lips unsuccessfully.

“Can you give me half an hour?” she questioned softly. “I just need to calm down.” He nodded, turning to walk toward the door to her room. Stepping into the doorway he turned flashing her a bright smile, glad that he could get her to interact just the slightest bit.

The minute the door closed, however, he could hear her sobs form the other side. He could almost see her hands running through her hair in frustration, the heels of her hands returning to her eyes. What could make her hurt like this was something he couldn’t even imagine. People just didn’t act like this, even if they were depressed. If she were depressed she wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to start over, she would have just taken her life. But she was here, starting over, and in some kind of emotional pain that appeared to be so excruciating that it must have become physical.